


Sensitive

by WandererRiha



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Prompto is not having a good day, Sick Fic, and they suck, are real, food allergies, headcanons, no beta we die like meh, non-graphic mentions of poo, non-graphic mentions of vomit, stupid body tricks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 07:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18516307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WandererRiha/pseuds/WandererRiha
Summary: Prompto has a hard time admitting that he just can't stomach this. Literally.





	Sensitive

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen a lot of fics that feature Prompto with an eating disorder.  
> I haven't seen one yet that features food sensitivities/allergies.  
> As someone who has those out her ears, watching his dietary progression as a character made me think that he probably has a lot of food sensitivities too.  
> I know from personal experience that trying to cater to your dietary shortcomings while on the road is damn near impossible.

Prompto didn’t really put two and two together until he went on the road with the guys. At first he’d thought he was simply motion sick. He used to get nauseous the rare times his parents would drive him somewhere. Back seats just didn’t agree with him, so the guys let him ride shotgun. Considering he was the only one who actually owned and knew how to _use_ a gun, Prompto thought this only fitting. That made it better, but it didn’t stop the cramps and nausea that seemed to trigger as soon as Ignis turned the key in the ignition.

“Man, my stomach hurts.” There was a rest stop ahead, maybe they could pull over for a minute. Just as long as it got him out of the car. No one else, it seemed, was having the same problem.

“Then take your medicine,” Gladio said without looking up from his paperback.

Prompto tried to laugh it off. “Yeah sure.”

Never mind that his “medicine” was a bottle of Pepto, another of lactobacillus tablets, and a half-full tin of Altoids. Ignis blows past the rest stop without even turning his head. Inwardly, Prompto sighs and reclines the seat a half inch. Maybe that will make the stomach cramps more bearable.

\--

They have enough money for dinner at the Crow’s Nest. Prompto gags at the mention of the name. His insides still hate him and he doesn’t think dumping a burger and fries down there is going to endear him to them. He gets a ginger-ale and the grilled chicken salad. Everyone looks at him funny.

“What? I didn’t get to run today,” he says with a shrug. “Not all of us are blessed with awesome metabolism.”

That gets them laughing and they let him eat his rabbit food in peace. Noctis sneaks him his pickle, lettuce, and tomato. Prompto makes sure they disappear before Ignis can comment.

\--

Prompto feels a _little_ better by the time they make camp. His stomach has forgiven him- though whoever has to clean the bathrooms at the Crow’s Nest may not- but his back is still killing him. Must have been sitting in the car too long. He does some stretches before Ignis shoos them all inside the tent for bed.

The back cramps make it hard to sleep. What did he _do_ to deserve this? Prompto goes over the list in his head: breakfast had been eggs and toast. He didn’t use butter, so that’s out. Lunch was some horrible drive through that seemed to only serve grease and salt in various packaging. Prompto had hoped his body might have processed that artery-clogging crap by now, but apparently not. Dinner was the salad with oil and vinegar so that’s safe. Must still be lunch haunting him.

When he was little, he’d tried to get in shape. He’d eat nothing but vegetables and started running. When he’d passed out in gym class, they’d called his mom. Turns out he’d been starving himself. Mom- who was curvy herself- had listened to his tearful explanation about being teased and shunned because of his weight. She’d kissed his head and taken him to the doctor. Turned out he had food sensitivities. He was sensitive to dairy, peppers, soy, peanuts, and a couple of other random things that he didn’t like anyway. Once he cut out the foods that set him off, everything was fine. In theory, anyway.

By the time he hit middle school he looked just like all the other kids. Indeed, he was a little on the scrawny side. He’d lost weight, but there was clearly still something going on internally. Prompto would have liked to get tested further, but mom was always away and money was tight. He Moogled what he could and tried to come up with a plan. Turned out scratch tests weren’t that expensive and you could do them yourself.

It was not reassuring when the results came back and he scored like 10,000% allergic to just about everything.

Some foods- nuts, dairy, chickory of all things- set him off worse than others. Also, if he took a lactose pill and didn’t go overboard on the dairy- one pat of butter, a half cup of ice cream, skim milk on his cereal- he was usually okay. Usually. High school felt like a long time ago. He can’t get away with cheating on stuff that will only sort of kill him anymore. Prompto was beginning to wonder if his warranty was already starting to wear out?

\--

Prompto was beginning to dread restaurants. It had been bad enough at school. Most days he packed lunch, but sometimes had to go for the “loser meal” which was usually PBJ with three slices of bread or a single slice of cheese on a burger bun. Neither of these options made even a remote amount of sense, and neither one was safe for him to eat. He had learned quickly that it was better to skip lunch that day than suffer the consequences of trying to eat food that hated him.

When you’re running from the Niflheim empire, driving multiple hours a day, and hunting when you aren’t driving, it’s a lot harder to keep your insides happy. Self-medicating with tea and peppermints could only do so much. The guys teasing him about it wasn’t helping. He wasn’t _trying_ to be disgusting. Prompto tried to swallow yet another belch and didn’t quiet succeed. At least it wasn’t loud.

“Perhaps if you chewed your food rather than inhaling it,” Ignis suggested primly.

Prompto gritted his teeth in a smile. “Heh. Yeah. I gotta learn to slow down.”

He hadn’t bolted his food. Well, okay, he had, but that was because he’d been so hungry. He’d begged off on breakfast- eggs again- and eaten a power bar only to discover there were about six things on the ingredient list that were likely to cause pain and suffering for the rest of the day. Prompto scowled at the wrapper. Betrayed yet again. He crumpled it savagely before shoving it in the trash bag.

Happily, one power bar isn’t enough to kill him, just enough to make him feel like he has a rock in his stomach and give him indigestion. His jeans garot him as he takes his place in the front seat. Pulling his shirt tail out, he draped it over his lap and undid the button on his jeans. That helped a little. Ignis cast him a sideways glance. Prompto flashed him a huge smile and a thumbs-up. It's a long couple of hours to their nest destination.

As soon as they stopped the car, Prompto darted out into the woods.

“Prom?” Noctis asked.

“Sorry dude, nature calls!”

Gladio snorted and rolled his eyes.

First rule of doing one’s business outdoors: get out of visual range. If #1, find a rock- not a tree- and make your mark. If #2, dig a hole and bury the evidence. Prompto doesn’t have time to dig a hole, barely has time to drop his pants. The boulder that’s been sitting in his gut forces its way to the exit. It’s not even remotely rock-like by the time it makes its appearance. Between the cramps and the smell, Prompto really thinks he might puke. There’s also the disconcerting and very real possibility that he’s not done. In another hour or so, he might need to do this again. How he’s going to get Ignis to pull over, he doesn’t know. Worse yet, what if it happens in the middle of a hunt? He kicks some dirt and leaves over the mess and reasons that at least these are not his good jeans, and he’s not super attached to the underwear. Both will wash. He really hopes it won’t come to that.

\--

Ignis cooks that night, thank all six of the Astrals. Green curry soup. Prompto could kiss him. It’s good, so nobody else whines about not eating out. Prompto’s still feeling wrung-out from his earlier gastric distress. Hopefully this will help. Curry’s supposed to be good for that sort of thing. He doesn’t feel like he’s swallowed a boulder, even feels pleasantly full, like the world’s finally even beneath his feet. Low blood sugar sucks. However, he’s forced to make another dash for the tree line about fifteen minutes later.

If anything, it’s gotten worse. Tears stream from his eyes as his body tries to purge whatever it is he put down there that it doesn’t like. Six, he hadn’t eaten this much, had he? He’s shaking and flushed by the time it’s over. Except when he finally manages to stand, he has to squat down again. Oh man this is bad. This is so bad. He can’t be sick, especially not like this. If he was throwing up, that would be manageable. Even in the middle of a hunt if he has to quick toss his cookies, fine, whatever. It’s a little harder to get away with dropping your drawers in a middle of a fight.

It’s a good ten minutes before he wanders back to camp, shaky and off-balance yet again.

“You okay?” Noctis asks him.

Prompt waves him off. “Fine, dude.”

“I made tea while you were gone,” Ignis comments. There’s a mug waiting for him. Prompto picks it up and sniffs. Ginger. Bless Iggy.

\--

He skips breakfast the following morning- by now it’s not unusual- and goes for a slightly longer run. Ignis is making eggs again and Prompto knows for a fact he can’t deal with that. Ignis narrows his eyes at Prompto’s excuses, but says nothing.

Lunch is another greasy spoon where even the salad is deep-fried. The burgers seem like the safest thing. Prompto eats the burger and leaves the bun, asks if he can get broccoli instead of fries. The broccoli arrives swimming in butter. Prompto sighs internally and tries to blot it with a napkin.

They need to take a hunt, and the site is about forty-five minutes away. Prompto isn’t sure he’ll make it. His lunch keeps trying to claw its way up his throat, bringing gas and acid with it every time. He tries to be quiet, keep it to himself, but it’s hard.

“Did lunch not agree with you?” Ignis inquires.

“Not really, no,” Prompto admits. “I don’t think that broccoli was any good.”

“Perhaps not.”

Acid surges up his throat and Prompto claps both hands over his mouth as he jerks forward. Ignis doesn’t have to be told. He depresses the break and pulls over as quickly as he can. Prompto stumbles from the car into the overgrowth. He doesn’t get as far as he’d like. He can still see the Regalia and the worried expressions of his friends.

Trying to undo his belt and puke at the same time is not an experience he’d care to repeat. At least he’s saved his pants. He’s not so sure about his shoes.

“Prompto?”

Oh Six that’s Ignis!

“Prompto, are you alright?”

“Stay there!” Prompto manages before vomiting again. “Just stay there!”

The crush of undergrowth goes silent.

“Prompto?”

“I’m okay!”

“Forgive me, but I sincerely doubt that.”

“I don’t--” Oh six not again! “I don’t think lunch was any good.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“Chuck me the toilet paper and maybe a bottle of water?”

“Of course. Anything else?”

Another spasm of cramps seizes him and he can’t answer right away. His eyes are watering again, though mostly from embarrassment this time. Surely Ignis can hear and smell what his problem is and six it’s humiliating.

“Could...could you maybe get my sweatpants out of my bag?”

“I’ll be right back.”

Prompto’s run out of ammunition by the time Ignis returns, which is good because Prompto can barely stand upright on his own.

“Everything okay?” Gladio asks as they approach the car.

“Just a case of food poisoning,” Ignis says serenely. “Seems the diner’s broccoli was rancid.”

“See, this is why I don’t eat vegetables,” Noctis says. That makes Prompto smile a little.

\--

Prompto has three cups of ginger tea for dinner and promptly falls asleep. He’s starving, but he feels better. His back pain is gone, though his stomach is still sulking angrily. When he wakes, it’s so early it’s still dark outside; the coldest hour before the sun comes up. Ignis’ sleeping bag, however, is already empty. Prompto decides he may as well get up. After three cups of tea and eight hours of sleep, he _really_ has to pee.

“Feeling better?” Ignis inquires upon Prompto’s return.

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you could manage to eat anything?”

Prompto’s heart and stomach sink at the thought of food, and again at the prospect of having to politely decline whatever Iggy’s got on offer.

“Um, no thanks. Still kinda queasy.”

“Oatmeal, perhaps? Or I’ve got some fruit if that would be better.”

“What kinda fruit?”

Ignis digs in the cooler. “Apples, bananas, oranges.”

“An orange should be okay.”

Ignis tosses him one and Prompto catches it easily.

“I wish you’d told me.”

“Huh? Told you what?”

“That you have food allergies.”

Prompto freezes, thumb dug into the orange’s skin. “Er. I um. I didn’t want to be rude.”

Ignis’ expression is only mildly exasperated; mostly kind. “Prompto. Allowing me to go on inadvertently poisoning you is a greater faux pas than simply telling me you can’t stomach something.”

Prompto sank in his chair, feeling his face burn. “Sorry.”

“Now then,” Ignis’ tone is brisk. He’s got his phone out. “What are your trigger foods? Is there anything in particular I should try to avoid?”

Prompto pulls his own phone out. “How ‘bout I just send you the list?”

“You have a list?”

“Yeah. It’s long.”

Ignis seems nonplussed. “Alright.”

His eyebrows only climb higher as he scans the document Prompto’s sent him. There are three major headings: Hospital Trip, Sorry About Your Bathroom, and I Shouldn’t (but I Can!). Eggs top the “Hospital Trip” list, followed closely by dairy products and tree nuts.

“Chocolate gives you hives?” Ignis asks, alarmed.

“No, mold gives me hives. I mean, you buy the good stuff so I haven’t had to worry. It’s the budget stuff you gotta watch.”

“Duly noted. Any particular brands-- oh. I see you’ve thought ahead. I’d no idea you were this organized.”

Prompto allows himself a bashful smile. “Yeah well, when it’s important, yanno?”

“I do indeed. Well, this will make an excellent argument in my ongoing campaign to get Noctis to eat more vegetables.”

Prompto smiles at that, but it doesn’t last.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, passing his orange from hand to hand. “I didn’t want to be a burden, an additional expense. Anything that won’t set me off is usually more expensive. It’s a pain in the ass to eat at restaurants ‘cause no matter how careful I am, it never ends well, and then I’m disgusting for the rest of the day.”

“I would much rather see you comfortable and well-fed than politely starving or suffering. A little extra gil on food is certainly worth the greater- and might I add more traumatic- expense of taking you to the emergency room.”

“I guess there’s that…” Prompto admits.

Ignis hands him a bowl. Clear broth with some soft vegetables floating in it. Did he just whip this up while they were talking?

“Vegetable stock; water, salt, kale, onions, garlic, and bay leaf. If you think you can manage anything else, please let me know. You know I’m always on the hunt for a good recipe.”

Ignis offers him a rare grin, and Prompto returns it.


End file.
